


Twelfth Night, Or What You Will

by TheBadIdeaBears



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Acting, Alternate Universe - Normal High School, Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Boys Kissing, Bullying, Consensual Underage Sex, Cookies, Crushes, Dork Jean Kirstein, Dyslexic Eren Yeager, Essays, First Kiss, Heavy Petting, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, House Party, Implied Masturbation, Jean Kirstein and Eren Yeager Fight, Kissing, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Minor Hange Zoë/Levi, Minor Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir, Mutual Masturbation, Nerd Armin Arlert, Party, Pining, References to Shakespeare, Relationship Discussions, Seven Minutes In Heaven Game, Shakespeare Quotations, Showers, Study Date, Studying, Surprise Kissing, Teen Crush, Theatre, Twelfth Night - Freeform, Wingman Annie Leonhart, Wingman Marco Bott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:40:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25507615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBadIdeaBears/pseuds/TheBadIdeaBears
Summary: At the end of the school year, Class 104 are preparing to put on a production of Twelfth Night and Armin has been cast alongside his longtime crush, Jean, in the lead roles. With lines to learn, bullies to deal with and his own feelings to navigate, how will all this play out for Armin?
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Jean Kirstein
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44





	Twelfth Night, Or What You Will

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, Pandora here, Holly and I traded lists of some of our favourite tropes and this is what I wrote for her after reading her list. I really hope you all enjoy it! :)

Towards the end of the summer term, it's no secret that Class 104's form teacher can't be bothered to do anything overly productive with them. Levi—as he insisted they call him; he hates being called Mr Ackerman, particularly with his niece in the class—is a huge proponent of 'self led study' in the last few weeks of the school year, but is ready with a glare and threats of push ups for anyone caught disturbing the peace. As such, his announcement that they're going to do something more than a simple open classroom for the school's summer gala day takes them all a little by surprise.

“A play?” asks Armin, his stomach writhing in anticipation, though he doesn't yet know why.

“Yes,” says Levi in his usual impassive tone. “The play is Twelfth Night by Shakespeare.”

“Is that the one with the twins and the cross dressing?” asks Connie.

“Seems you _can_ occasionally retain information Springer,” comments Levi with a tiny raise of his eyebrow. “Yes that's the one. I've already spoken to Leonhart and she's agreed to take on the role of director.”

Armin glances over to where Annie sits, seeing no change in her usual demeanour despite the fact that she must know everyone's eyes are on her right now.

“She also has the cast list,” continues Levi.

“We're not auditioning?” asks Eren.

“No,” says Levi with a scowl. “I'm not sitting through that torture. I told Leonhart to cast everyone as she saw fit.”

He waves a hand and Annie gets up to join him at the front of the room, pulling a piece of paper out of her pocket.

“If anyone doesn't like the part they've been given then tough,” she says before reading out the list: “Antonio will be played by Marco, Fabian will be Ymir, Connie you're Feste, Malvolio is Reiner, Eren is Andrew, Toby Belch is Bertolt, Mikasa will play Maria, Olivia will be played by Sasha, Christa will be Sebastian, Jean you're playing Orsino and Viola will be played by Armin. Everyone else is in wardrobe, sets and runner jobs.”

Armin feels his face heat up as several people turn to look at him.

“For the duration of this production, Leonhart is in charge,” says Levi. “If you have any questions, direct them to her. Scripts are on my desk so take one each, rehearsals start tomorrow.”

The bell rings to signal the end of the day and the classroom fills with the usual cacophony of scraping chairs, shuffling bags and chatter. Most likely Levi left announcing the play until the very end of the day so as not to have to deal with the class in the immediate aftermath, Armin realises as he packs his things away. He slings his bag over his shoulder and darts across the classroom, keen to catch Annie before she can leave.

“Hey Annie?” he calls as he reaches her. “Can I talk to you?”

She gives him one of her small, rare smiles. “Figured you'd come to me for a chat.”

Armin lets a few more members of the class leave before saying, “I'm surprised you agreed to take on directorial duties.”

Annie shrugs. “Levi promised to wipe the fights off my permanent record if I agreed and despite appearances I might like to pursue higher education one day.”

“Oh I'm glad to hear it,” Armin says with a smile. “You're really smart, you totally should.”

Annie rolls her eyes. “You're very cute Armin—please don't make me regret this decision.”

“Right...” Armin fiddles a little with his bag strap. “Did you pick the play or...?”

“Nah, that was him,” she replies, nodding to Levi (who's clearly trying to leave but also currently stuck talking to other students). “He seemed weirdly insistent on it.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, I think because he's trying to get into that weird science teacher's knickers and I overheard her telling him it's her favourite play the other day.”

“He wants to win Dr Hange's heart with a student play?” asks Armin.

“I know right,” says Annie. “Old people are disgusting. But that's not why you came to talk to me.”

Armin feels his cheeks lightly flushing again. “No—I want to know why you cast me as Viola.”

Another of Annie's little smiles crosses her face. “Well it's pretty obvious that the twins need to by played by you and Christa.”

“Yeah,” concedes Armin. Ever since primary school he and Christa have had to tell people that no, they're not related, just similar. “But then why not cast her as Viola?”

“Let's be real Armin,” says Annie. “Viola is basically the main character and for it to be a good play she needs to be at least semi-convincing. Now, you and I both know it won't be a good performance if Christa does it because she's not going to try that hard or turn up to rehearsals as much because she's always getting fingered behind the bike sheds by Ymir.”

“I guess,” admits Armin. He really can't refute her reasoning: Christa does tend to shirk extracurricular activities in favour of spending time with her girlfriend.

“Sebastian is a way less intensive role,” Annie continues, “so I figured she could handle it. And even if you're not the best actor in the class you're conscientious enough to take it seriously and deliver a solid performance.”

“Um... thank you?” Armin says to the half compliment.

“Also casting a guy to play a girl and a girl to play a guy is like... super Shakespearean or something,” says Annie. “You saw 'Shakespeare in Love' right?”

Armin nods vaguely. “I think once maybe.”

“The best actors in the class are Connie and Jean,” continues Annie. “Connie is _not_ romantic lead material so he's the fool character to carry that side of the cast, which leaves Jean to play Orsino. Everyone else is pretty much just filling gaps, with one or two exceptions for my own amusement.”

“Reiner as Malvolio?” guesses Armin.

“Bingo.” Annie flashes him an evil grin. “And besides, I figured you wouldn't be too upset about spending more time with Jean.”

Armin blushes deeply. “Is... is it that obvious?”

“I don't think anyone else has noticed on their own,” says Annie. “Unclench.”

“Okay...” Armin clears his throat, fiddling with a lock of his hair. “What—”

“Hey Armin!”

Armin turns to see Eren at the classroom door, Mikasa beside him, both clearly keen to leave.

“You ready?” Eren asks.

“Yeah, one sec,” Armin calls before turning back to Annie. “See you tomorrow.”

“Later,” says Annie and Armin grabs a script and leaves, falling into step with Eren and Mikasa as they head down the corridor.

“This play thing is going to be a doss,” says Eren, stretching in the afternoon sunlight.

“Speak for yourself,” says Armin, already leafing through his script. “I have a lot to learn even with a pared down version of the play.”

“You'll be okay,” says Mikasa encouragingly. “You can memorise all kinds of things really quickly.”

“I suppose,” says Armin, looking through more pages. Thankfully with it being near the end of the school year he has less homework to worry about; if he had more work to do he'd likely struggle. He hears a skid of bike brakes coming up behind him and looks up, a flush coming to his face once again when he sees Jean on his bike beside him.

“Hey Armin,” Jean greets him with a smile. “Already learning your lines?”

Hoping he looks less flustered than he feels, Armin gives him a smile. “Just having a look through the script.”

Before Jean can reply, Eren cuts in, “Get lost Horseface, no one wants you here.”

“You don't own the road dickbag,” retorts Jean. “Don't be petty just because you got a lame part in the play because you can't read.”

Spitting with anger, Eren says, “I'm fucking dyslexic you fucking Friesian!”

“Whatever,” replies Jean. “I really only came over here to talk to Armin anyway.”

“To me?” asks Armin, ignoring Eren's continued ranting.

“Yeah,” says Jean, that smile from before returning to his face. “Just wanted to say I'm really excited to be in the play with you.”

A smile of Armin's own comes to his lips. “I'm excited to be in it with you too.”

The moment of them smiling at each other stretches out and Armin's heart races in his chest, giddy and irrepressible. Then Jean clears his throat.

“I should get going,” he says. “Got to help my mum with laundry. See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see you then,” says Armin and Jean rides off ahead of them. An excited grin stays on Armin's face until Eren invades his thoughts again.

“What a fucking dildo,” he grumbles as they continue their walk home. “I mean who the fuck does he think he is, fucking horse-faced arsehole!”

“Eren?” says Mikasa.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

Armin tells his grandfather about the play over dinner that evening.

“Have you got a part?” his grandfather asks.

Armin nods. “I'm playing Viola.”

“Viola?” His grandfather pauses. “So you'll be playing a woman disguised as a man?”

“Yes,” nods Armin, paraphrasing as he adds, “The director said I'd be well suited to it.”

His grandfather chuckles. “Are you okay with it?”

“Yeah,” shrugs Armin. “I like the story so it's fun to get to play a big part. You'll come see it right?”

“Of course,” says his grandfather. “Let me know if you need anyone to help you practise your lines.”

“I will,” smiles Armin.

After dinner, once he's done with the washing up, Armin curls up on the sofa with his script while his grandfather watches the evening news, reading through his scenes and highlighting his pieces of dialogue. As he suspected on the walk home, it's a lot to memorise, far more than most of the class, and he knows he's going to have to practise the delivery of the lines to get the lyricism of the words right. The language is beautiful though: even though they're using a slightly simplified version of the text (probably to keep the play from being too long), the lines flow wonderfully even as Armin reads them in his head.

At the end of the play, after Viola and Sebastian's identities have been revealed, Armin's heart picks up speed. The stage directions show Orsino and Viola joining hands, saying a few words... and then the two kiss. It's a sweet end to the story after all the pining and chaos, and Armin can't help but smile, but he also can't keep his thoughts from the fact that _he_ will be Viola and _he_ is going to have to kiss Orsino... who is Jean.

He slides down in his seat a little, no longer properly reading the words on the page in front of him as he thinks about the casting, the play, Annie's comment about them spending more time together. This _will_ mean they have to spend time together—even if just in rehearsals—but they're also going to have to practise this... kiss.

“Are you feeling too warm?”

Armin's grandfather's words break through his thoughts and he sits up straighter again.

“No, I'm okay.”

“Your face is red.”

“I'm fine, really.” Armin closes his script, getting up. “I think I'm going to go get ready for bed and read more there.”

Armin's grandfather waves a hand. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Grandad.”

Up in his room, Armin sinks onto his bed with a sigh, running one hand through his hair. Can he really do this: be a main character in a play (to be performed in front of people no less) and kiss someone— _Jean_ —on stage? Just the idea makes his pulse quicken and sends an involuntary tremble through his fingers.

Armin isn't foolish enough not to have realised he's crushing hard. He met Jean when they all started secondary school and got on with and liked him very quickly, even though Eren didn't. Over the years that like grew and flourished; for the last few months Armin's caught himself thinking about Jean more times than he can count. Nevertheless, he hasn't really known what to _do_ about it. He's played scenarios in his head, thought about messaging Jean, asking to meet somewhere, suggesting they hang out outside of school, but each idea makes him anxious: what if Jean were to turn him down? How would he face him at school? They're not in any of the same clubs—Jean's in the tennis club, Armin plays chess and is on the debate team—so the only time Armin sees him normally is in classes, but it would still be hard to see him then. In the end, it's been easier to just quietly pine and say nothing. He hasn't even said anything to Eren or Mikasa about it. But now...

Armin glances at the script as though it could grow teeth and bite him. Now they're going to be playing love interests and will have to kiss at the end of the play. Just the thought of it makes his insides feel like they might melt. What would— _will_ —it be like? Armin doesn't have much (read: any) experience with kissing. Is his first kiss to be on a stage, watched by teachers, students and parents? It's not what he would have chosen, but...

Armin flops back onto his bed, letting out an exasperated huff.

Preparations for the play get underway the following day. The cast do a read through of their scripts together while the rest of the class start planning the costumes and set pieces, all under Annie's supervision. Spirits are high and Armin finds himself laughing through much of the table read despite the nerves that are still knotting in his stomach. His scenes with Sasha are particularly fun and watching her scene with Reiner has everyone in stitches, even just at the read through stage. Oddly, Annie seems to have cast everyone pretty well: Mikasa has a surprisingly good sense of comic timing in her role as Maria and the others in her scenes play off her, while the casting of Marco as Antonio fits well and carries that side of the story. When Armin and Jean's scenes together come around, Armin feels his pulse quicken, making his breath catch in his throat, and he hopes no one notices. The scenes pass by as well as any of the others have but afterwards, while Connie, Eren and Bertolt run their scenes, Armin finds himself pondering the words he and Jean have said back and forth and smiling to himself.

The following day, the class rearranges the desks in the room and start to block the performance. It takes several days to get it all done to Annie's satisfaction and they all take copious notes in their scripts about stage directions. As Annie predicted, none of them see much of Christa or Ymir by the end of the first week.

“Annie!” Connie calls one afternoon. “Christa disappeared again.”

“Well we know where she probably is,” says Annie drily. “Do you want to go find her while Ymir is knuckle deep?”

Connie grimaces. “Not really.”

“Just run the next scene,” advises Annie. “I'm sure they'll be back when they get hungry.”

Armin checks his script and gets up to stand in the 'wings' (a stack of chairs that mark the edge of their classroom constructed stage). Jean takes up his position too and flashes a smile across the room to him. Armin feels a flush in his cheeks but smiles back before looking down at his script to check his cue.

After another week of rehearsals, Annie starts to get stricter about the cast learning their lines and not reading from the scripts. When they try to do a 'copies down' run through and Connie admits that he hasn't learned _any_ of his lines, Annie beats him repeatedly with a rolled up script until he promises to do better. Watching the display gives the rest of the cast the impetus to learn their lines too, and Armin realises how well suited Annie would be to being a prison guard. He himself is learning his lines pretty steadily—as Mikasa predicted, his method of memorisation based study is helping him out here too—but he knows some of the others aren't finding it anywhere near as easy.

One afternoon, after chess club, Armin heads to the library to return some books. Figuring he might as well see if there's something new for him to read, he starts looking through the shelves, but stops short when he sees Jean at a desk. He's leafing through a fat history book and scribbling down notes, his hair standing messily on end as though he's been running his hands through it in exasperation. As Armin pauses, watching him, Jean sighs and looks over to another open book and seems to read some of it. Between the arrangement of text on the page, the highlighted sections and the dog eared corners, Armin realises it must be Jean's script.

“Jean?” he says softly.

Jean looks up, sighing as he sees Armin. “Hey—sorry, I'm kind of...” He looks around at the various paper and books in front of him. “Busy.”

“That's okay,” says Armin, stepping closer. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just got a lot on,” explains Jean.

“But it's the end of the year,” Armin points out. “How have you still got that much?”

Jean gives him a shrug and a wry smile. “I bombed the history exam so I have to do a make up essay.”

“Really?” Armin asks.

“Yeah,” nods Jean. “It's either that or my mum gets me a tutor for the summer.”

Armin shakes his head. “I've never heard of anything like that before.”

“Well that's because you're smart,” says Jean with another smile.

Armin's cheeks heat up at the compliment and he looks down at the desktop. “Eren's never mentioned anything like that either.”

Jean snorts. “Like Eren would admit to having to do a make up essay.”

With a little smile of his own, Armin meets Jean's gaze again. “True.”

Jean glances down at the textbook again with a sigh. “Just wish I knew what the hell it is I'm doing.”

“Are you struggling?” asks Armin.

“A little,” Jean admits. “I'm supposed to show Mr Dok a new essay plan tomorrow but I don't really know where to start, and I don't want Annie to hurt me either but you never know which scenes she's going to make us run next so I have to just memorise as much as possible.”

“Well our choices are limited when Christa keeps vanishing,” says Armin, “so she has to improvise a little.”

“Yeah I know,” Jean says. “Unfortunately it means I have a lot to do today.”

He gives Armin another harried smile before turning his attention back to his notes. For a brief moment, Armin considers getting his book and leaving, but then—before he can really think about it at all—he asks, “Do you want some help?”

Jean looks up again and blinks at him.

“I-I mean,” Armin says, “I'm not trying to act superior or anything, just I might be able to help if you don—”

“Yes please,” says Jean, closing his book. “I just don't know what to do.”

Armin checks his watch. “Well the library is closing soon so we'll have to find somewhere else to study.” He thinks for a moment. “We could go to mine if you want—my grandad is out at bridge tonight.”

Jean looks thoughtful as he packs up. “That would probably be quieter but I should get back to mine—I promised my mum I'd be back to help with stuff. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” says Armin with a nod. “No problem.”

On the back of Jean's bike, on the way to his house, Armin can hardly keep his arms around Jean's waist. He can only hope that Jean can't feel how warm his face is through his blazer. He's never been this close to Jean before—even in rehearsals they've only marked kisses so far, though Armin knows they'll eventually have to stop marking and start actually kissing and the idea makes his heart race anew. When they get to Jean's house and get off the bike, Jean parks it in the garage behind a kids' slide before they head into the house. It smells like cooking food—tomato and basil—and though there are toys scattered around the floor it's clean and otherwise tidy. As they head into the kitchen, Jean greets his mother and grabs some oranges out of the fruit bowl.

“This is Armin mum,” he says, gesturing to Armin.

Jean's mother gives Armin a welcoming smile and he says, “Nice to meet you.”

“You too Armin,” she says before turning back to Jean. “I thought you were going to study in the library today?”

“I was there until closing time,” explains Jean. “Then I ran into Armin and we decided to study together and do some rehearsing too.”

“Are you in the play too?” she asks Armin.

Armin nods, a nervous flush coming to his cheeks as he replies, “Yeah, I play Viola.”

“Oh how nice,” says Jean's mother. “Jean's been practising his lines so much.” She pauses thoughtfully for a moment before asking Jean, “If I recall isn't Viola your love interest?”

“Well we're going up to my room,” says Jean quickly, his ears turning pink. “Got to finish this essay plan.”

With the sound of Jean's mother laughing to herself following them up the stairs, the two of them head up to Jean's bedroom. Armin sits at the end of Jean's bed, loosening his school tie with one hand as Jean takes off his own and hangs up his blazer.

“Sorry it's kind of warm in here,” says Jean as he begins to clear a space on his desk to work. “The sun gets round to this side of the house and it just keeps heating this room up.”

“It's okay,” says Armin, shrugging off his own blazer.

They get to work on the essay plan, eating segments of orange as they discuss the question Mr Dok has set for the make up essay. Armin helps Jean to think up arguments and points to bring up in writing it and Jean writes it all down. Soon they have an essay plan Jean feels happy with and he turns to Armin with a smile.

“Thank you,” he says. “Seriously you've saved my life.”

“It's no problem,” says Armin. Having Jean so close, smiling at him, just him, gives Armin a fluttery feeling behind his diaphragm. “I'm really glad to be able to help.”

Jean runs a hand through his hair—it spikes up from his forehead and Armin resists the urge to reach out and see if it feels as soft as it looks. “Shall we run some lines?”

“Sure,” says Armin, trying to sound casual and not like his heart has just leapt into his throat.

In the narrow bedroom, the two of them can't do many of their physical cues, and so they focus on learning their lines, prompting each other when they stumble on them. They're going over one of their scenes together—one where Orsino quizzes Viola (as Cesario) about who she might be infatuated with—when they hear a soft knock on the door and a sleepy little voice.

“Don?”

A small girl, probably around two years old, pushes open the door to Jean's room and shuffles in. She has a stuffed giraffe under one arm and sandy brown hair like Jean's, though hers is messy and sticks up all around her head from a nap.

“Hey princess,” Jean says, holding out his arms to her and lifting her into his lap. “You had a good sleep?”

The little girl nods before turning a distrustful face towards Armin. “Who dat?”

“That's Armin,” says Jean. “Do you want to say hello?”

The girl surveys Armin curiously for a moment. “Girl?”

“Oh,” Armin says, lifting one hand to his hair with a little laugh. “No, I'm a boy. What's your name?”

“Lily,” she says, still gazing at him in apparent fascination.

“That's a lovely name,” says Armin, giving her a smile.

She smiles and brandishes her giraffe. “Dis Ben, he raff.”

“He's very nice too.” Armin laughs softly.

Lily beams at him. “My fwen.”

“You're very chatty today,” comments Jean, stroking Lily's hair before looking at Armin again. “She's normally really shy and 'I don't like strangers stranger'; it's not usual for her to take such a liking to new people.”

“I've been told I have a very non-threatening aura around kids,” says Armin bashfully, meeting Jean's gaze and exchanging a smile with him.

For a long moment, they silently gaze at each other, until Lily gets bored and starts fiddling with the collar of Jean's school shirt and he elects to take her downstairs to his mum so they can continue running their lines. While he's gone, Armin takes a few moments to collect himself: being here and seeing Jean in a whole different way to at school makes him feel flustered, like he's seeing something private, but at the same time the knowledge brings a warm tenderness into his chest.

As they reach the end of the play, Armin finds the words coming easier for both of them—he knows he's been lingering on this scene a lot, especially...

Jean takes Armin's hand, reciting, “Cesario come; for so you shall be, while you are a man; But, when in other habits you are seen, Orsino's mistress, and his fancy's queen.”

He gazes into Armin's eyes and Armin smiles in response, his heart picking up speed. “And then we...”

“Yeah,” says Jean, glancing unnecessarily down at his script. “We kiss.”

Armin's mouth feels suddenly very dry in the silence of Jean's room, especially when Jean squeezes his fingers gently. Annie has always moved on to Connie's ending song before they've had a chance to actually practise it, but now feels different. Slowly, gradually, Jean leans in, his mattress letting out a soft sigh of a creak, and presses a light kiss to Armin's cheek. He pulls back, looking into Armin's eyes with his face as pink as Armin knows his own is. The silence in the room seems deafening and the continued touch of their fingers electric. Jean is still holding his hand...

Jean swallows. “Armin...”

“Jean Boy!”

The call from Jean's mother is accompanied by footsteps coming upstairs. Jean lets go of Armin's hand and goes to the door to speak to her. While Jean chats to his mother, Armin raises one hand to his own face, brushing the tips of his fingers over his cheek where Jean kissed it. Was that real?

“Armin?” Jean asks—Armin lifts his head to look at him. “Do you want to stay for dinner?”

On Monday morning, Sasha announces a party at hers on Friday.

“A party?” asks Mikasa. “What are we celebrating?”

“Well we've all finished our exams,” says Sasha, licking Cheeto dust from her fingers, “and we've all been working hard on this play—”

“Most of us have,” puts in Reiner with a pointed look at Ymir and Christa, who pay him no heed.

“So I thought it would be fun,” adds Sasha. “Everyone's invited, long as no one makes a huge mess.”

“Sounds like fun,” says Connie. “Count me in.”

“Me too,” says Jean. Armin chances a glance at him and they share a small smile when their eyes meet. Their line learning afternoon at Jean's seems to have helped them both a lot—they've been looking at their scripts far less since then and as a result their scenes together (and apart) have been smoother and more fluent. “Can you make it Armin?”

Armin feels the others look at him and nods. “I think my grandad will be glad to hear I'm spending time with friends.”

As the rest of them confirm their attendance, Armin catches another tiny smile from Jean and feels a jolt of slightly nervous excitement swell inside him. Maybe they can spend some time together at Sasha's.

At lunchtime the following day, Armin is walking down the corridor towards the library with his nose in a book when he almost walks into someone.

“Oh, I'm so sorry!” he says immediately, looking up to check who it is. His heart sinks as he recognises the group he's come across. The person he walked into is the tallest, a guy from a few years above called Porco, and—as always—he's with three others from the lacrosse team: two girls called Gabi and Pieck and his younger brother Falco. As Porco realises who Armin is a nasty smile comes to his face.

“Watch where you're going Arlert,” he says, turning to face Armin fully.

“Sorry,” says Armin again quickly. “I should have been paying attention. Please excuse me.”

He goes to step around him but finds the way blocked by the other three. His stomach lurches.

“Heard about your starring role,” says Pieck, folding her arms like Porco and giving Armin a similar smirk. “Playing a _girl's_ part no less.”

Armin feels his face heating up but says nothing. Should he try to turn around and leave? Most likely they'll just corner him again; he stands his ground.

“Suppose that's fitting for a fag like you,” says Gabi. She's younger and smaller than Armin but has a nasty streak he doesn't trust. “Bet you love getting to parade it around on stage.”

“Pretty fucking gay,” says Falco. “Pretty gross too.”

“Yeah that's not acceptable, least not in my book,” says Porco. “I don't think you should be allowed to push that unnatural shit on the rest of us.”

They've circled around him now, hemmed him in, and Armin's heart starts thumping in his ears. The words they're saying make it very clear how this could escalate soon and he would prefer that it doesn't. Just as he's starting to debate trying to shove through them and running as fast as he can, he hears a familiar voice.

“Oi, can I help you?”

The lacrosse players part, turning to see Jean coming down the corridor, his face set and angry. As he approaches, Porco squares up to him.

“Here to save your boyfriend are you?” he asks, clearly trying for intimidation, but Jean stands as tall as him and his anger seems to eclipse Porco's swagger.

“Get out of it,” Jean says, his voice a furious growl that Armin has never heard before. “No one cares about anything you've got to say so take your little hangers on and get lost.”

For a moment, Armin wonders if Porco will punch Jean, but instead he shrugs.

“Come on, let's go,” he instructs the other three. They all slope off, shooting poisonous glances at the pair until they disappear out of sight around the corner.

“God I hate those dicks,” says Jean on an exasperated sigh.

“Sorry you had to get involved,” Armin says. “They're awful.”

“I wasn't going to let them speak to you like that,” Jean says firmly. His expression, when he turns to look at Armin, is harder and more determined than Armin has seen it in a long time. “It was disgusting.”

Armin tries a little smile. “Well thanks, I'm really grateful.”

Jean gives him a smile too. “I'll let the others know to be on the lookout for them so they won't bother you again. You know no one's going to let them get away with that shit.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Actually I was hoping to catch you alone,” adds Jean, reaching into his bag. “I wanted to give you this.” He produces a little cloth bag, tied shut with a drawstring, that he presses into Armin's hand. “They're shortbread biscuits,” Jean explains. “I wanted to thank you for helping me with my essay and lines and stuff and I've been getting good at shortbread lately.”

Armin is too surprised to respond right away—he gazes dumbly at Jean, the bag of biscuits in his hand and his cheeks going bright red. Jean made these for _him_.

“You don't have to eat them if you don't want to,” puts in Jean when Armin doesn't speak. “I... I probably should have asked if you liked shortbread first. I figured it was a safe bet—my mum said everyone likes shortbread.”

Armin reaches out with his free hand to touch Jean's arm.

“Thank you,” he says with another smile. “Really, I can't wait to try them.”

“You're sure?” asks Jean.

Armin nods, going up on his toes to kiss Jean's flushed cheek. It takes all of his daring to do it, but then he gets a satisfied warmth in his stomach as he smiles at a stunned Jean.

“Now we're even.”

On Friday afternoon, everyone's spirits are high with excitement for Sasha's party later. Rehearsal is frequently interrupted with wild laughter, especially as they're also trying on their costumes too. When Reiner pulls on his yellow tights, no one can keep a straight face; even Annie smirks.

“Holy shit,” Connie says through laughter. “Dude you look—”

“Fucking ridiculous,” scowls Reiner. “I'm not wearing these.”

“You have to,” says Sasha. “It's part of the plot.”

“Then the casting director has a shitty sense of humour,” Reiner says, shooting a look at Annie.

“Well we need to do something about it,” says Eren. “Right now we can see your entire—”

At this moment, Levi strides into the classroom. He takes a look at Reiner before wrinkling his nose.

“Braun put on a goddamn cup,” he says. “No one wants to see that.”

The class falls about laughing again, giddy and hysterical. From where he's standing on a little stool in the dress he's to wear at the start of the play, Armin laughs too. He tries not to jostle too much so that Hannah can continue to pin his cuff but she's too busy giggling too. From across the room, Jean catches Armin's eye and they share a secret smile before Jean says something to Marco and then makes his way over.

“Hey,” he says with another little grin. The rest of the class set about obtaining a cup for Reiner and they find they can chat quietly together.

“Hi,” says Armin. He holds out his arms to show off the dress. “What do you think?”

Jean grins. “Looking good, ten out of ten, would marry at the end of the play.”

Armin giggles, a blush creeping up the back of his neck. “Well I'm glad you think so. Are you excited for Sasha's later?”

“Yeah, it should be fun,” says Jean. Is Armin wishfully seeing things or is Jean's expression softer when their eyes meet? “You?”

“Yeah,” says Armin. “Like you say it should be good.” He pauses briefly before adding, “Thanks for the biscuits by the way.”

“Oh did you like them?” asks Jean, the glint in his eye brightening further.

“I did,” says Armin. “They were really nice, thanks.”

“Well I had to thank you for helping me.”

“Jean!”

They both look up to see Annie gesturing to him to run through a scene with Sasha. Jean gives Armin a little shrug.

“Duty calls,” he says. “Catch you in a bit.”

Armin watches him go as Hannah continues pinning his cuffs, a tender thrum in his chest. This evening can't come soon enough.

Armin gets to Sasha's a little late: his grandfather insisted he have a sandwich before he went out (despite him saying that Sasha would definitely provide food) and then he couldn't decide what to wear. He spent twenty minutes holding two separate tops up to himself in a mirror before picking a blue buttoned shirt instead and telling himself to stop worrying so much. When he arrives he's ushered downstairs into Sasha's parents' basement, where everyone else is already enjoying themselves. As well as Class 104, there are others there too: others from their year, a couple from other years, but thankfully no one from the lacrosse team. After his encounter with Porco and the others, Armin has no desire to see any of them again any time soon, and the rest of the class were unhappy at hearing about it. Add to that the fact that Gabi once deliberately knocked Sasha over at sports day and the group were unlikely to be invited anyway.

“Armin!” Eren calls to him, beckoning for him to join him and Mikasa on a squashy sofa. Armin grabs a can of lemonade from a table and slides in between them. “You're late.”

“Sorry,” says Armin, opening his drink and sipping it. “Grandad wanted me to eat something before coming out.”

Mikasa laughs. “He knows where you've come to, right?” she asks, gesturing to another large table groaning with plates and bowls of party snacks and food.

“Yeah but you know what he's like,” says Armin with a fond smile. Across the room, he catches sight of Jean and Marco laughing with Connie and feels his heart skipping at the sight of Jean. He's in a t-shirt and jeans, nothing exceptional but because Armin rarely sees him out of their school uniform or PE kit, the clothes look different and new to him. “Did much happen yet?”

Eren shrugs. “Not much—Ymir and Christa already stopped paying attention to anyone else and Reiner can't stop watching.”

Armin looks over to a corner to see the two girls furiously entangled, with Reiner throwing frequent glances at them even as he chats to Bertolt and a couple of guys from the swimming team.

The three of them stay on the sofa for a while, chatting and eating snacks while those around them dance and laugh, until later they feel hands on their shoulders and look up to see Connie grinning madly down at them.

“Come on,” he announces. “We're playing seven minutes in heaven!”

“We're what?” asks Armin, heart thumping nervously even as Connie yanks him to his feet along with Eren and Mikasa.

“Come on, it'll be fun!” Connie insists.

They join the others sitting on the floor. Armin remains between Eren and Mikasa and looks around the circle, a blush creeping up the back of his neck when he sees Jean a few people round from them. At Connie's insistence, Sasha spins the empty glass bottle first, letting out a wild giggle when it lands on Connie. The pair disappear into the little downstairs toilet and someone sets a timer. Several people make comments or laugh; Reiner raps on the door with a “get in my son!” and Armin feels his stomach twist. Are Connie and Sasha actually kissing in there? Obviously that's the idea of this game, but does that mean they _have_ to? He still hasn't kissed anyone yet—not properly anyway, assuming the cheek kisses with Jean don't count—and there's still only one person he'd want to kiss properly. Chancing a glance at Jean, he wonders what he would do if he ended up in the toilet with someone else. What if his first kiss ends up being with someone else as a result of this game? What if it's someone like Reiner? Armin can't imagine he'd enjoy that much.

After Connie and Sasha come out—both pink in the face and beaming, which only serves to make Armin more nervous—Eren is made to spin the bottle and goes into the toilet with Marco. Again, the rest of the group egg them both on, cat calling and clapping; Armin tries his best to laugh along even as he feels the knot of anxiety behind his diaphragm draw tighter.

After Eren comes out, a little frown and flush on his face and Marco looking as friendly as ever, Mikasa spins the bottle and it lands on Sasha.

“Looks like my lucky day,” laughs Sasha as the pair disappear into the toilet and the timer is started. Alone with the cajoling the other couples got, the two girls are also subject to a different kind of attention: several of the guys, including Reiner, sit close to the toilet door, listening closely to see if they can hear anything from inside. The idea of being subject to such scrutiny makes Armin squirm in embarrassment on Mikasa and Sasha's behalf. Still, when the girls re-emerge after seven minutes, neither looks sad and both of their faces are pink and pleased.

“Armin, you go!” urges Marco.

Heart thudding in his throat, Armin reaches forward and spins the bottle. Time seems to slow as he watches it turn again and again on the carpet, eventually coming to a stop. Armin follows the neck of the bottle with his eyes, his stomach somersaulting as he sees the top of it pointing towards Jean. Before he can feel his cheeks blazing red, Armin is grabbed by Connie and Marco and hauled to his feet to cheers and jeers. Jean is pushed into the toilet after him and the door closed behind them. Through the wood, Armin can hear the same noises as before, and as he turns to face Jean he realises just how small this room is; the two of them are practically chest to chest.

“Hey,” says Jean, giving Armin a little smile.

“H-hi,” Armin says softly. He wonders briefly if they're supposed to get on with it straight away and his mouth goes dry but then Jean smiles again.

“We don't have to do anything if you don't want to,” he says.

Armin blinks. “Really?”

“Yeah,” says Jean. “Eren and Marco probably didn't do anything in here and I'm not going to talk about it with anyone.”

Armin gives him a tiny smile. “Thanks.”

He isn't sure what he wants, not really. Obviously he'd like to kiss Jean, but does Jean not want to kiss him? Is that why he was so quick to say they didn't have to do anything? Armin swallows, his mouth still dry.

“Are you enjoying the party?” Jean asks.

Armin nods. “I was a little late getting here,” he admits, “and... well, I didn't expect this...” He gestures to the two of them and the small room they're in—the noise from outside seems to have died down a little. “But it's fun.”

“Yeah,” agrees Jean. “I think it's a good way to blow off some steam.”

“Definitely,” says Armin, laughing a little as he adds, “Marco and Connie seemed rather enthusiastic about shutting us in here, didn't they?”

To his surprise, Jean flushes and a bashful look crosses his face. “Yeah, I might know why.”

“Oh?” Armin pauses, watching as Jean seems to wrestle with something.

“I... I might have told them... more mentioned it really, that I... I like you.”

The words make Armin's eyes grow wide—Jean likes him? Like... actually likes him? In the same way Armin likes Jean? For a second, Armin thinks he must have misheard, but then Jean's blush deepens in the face of his silence.

“Sorry,” Jean says. “I didn't want to ruin anything, right when we were starting to get to know each other better and become better friends, but I also... I don't want to be dishonest either.”

“Wow...” Armin says, the word slipping unbidden from his lips.

“I get it if you don't feel the same way,” adds Jean, speaking quickly. “I'm not expecting this to magically mean you like me too or anything, because that's not how real life works, though I hoped maybe you did, because we have a lot of fun when we get to hang out together and I think about you a lot and—”

Armin cuts off his words by pushing himself up on his toes and kissing Jean on the lips. After a brief moment's hesitation, Jean kisses him back, hands finding their way to Armin's waist. Feeling Jean's lips moving against his own and the press of Jean's hands on his back sends a quiver of excitement through Armin, a fizzing feeling going to his fingers and toes. He's almost light-headed, especially when they part briefly for air and immediately dive back in for more, and all the while he can scarcely think past the bliss filling him like helium.

After the party, over the weekend, Armin spends a lot of time messaging Jean, a giddy drop in his stomach each time his phone trills with a new message. Even as he does his usual weekend tasks—going to the shops with his grandfather, doing his household chores, reading and watching TV—he doesn't stop thinking about Jean. Given how frequently Jean messages him too, he suspects (hopes) Jean hasn't stopped thinking of him either.

When they go back to school on Monday, Annie reminds them all that the play will be performed next Friday and that they therefore have only two school weeks to get it perfect. Armin thinks privately that he's pleased to see how seriously she's taken directing the play—maybe she's found a passion for theatre in all of this. She works them harder than ever, running scenes again and again in rehearsals to get the lines and cues right. As they work on it, everyone grows more excited and eager for the performance.

Meanwhile, Armin starts spending more time with Jean outside of classes and rehearsals. They study together, working on the small remaining bits of homework they have left (or else Armin keeps Jean company while he works on his make up essay for history); they rehearse together, running their lines and giving each other conspiratorial grins as they do; they hang out in their respective bedrooms and end up kissing more as they figure out what they like. Armin quickly learns how much he enjoys it when Jean gently nibbles on his bottom lip and gets a thrill the first time he dares slip his tongue into Jean's mouth first and Jean grips his hips just a little tighter. Kissing Jean makes Armin weak at the knees—he loves feeling Jean's arms around him and the soft little noises that come into his mouth—and whenever they spent time together Armin feels like he's walking on air.

For the time being, neither of them has said anything to anyone else about their time together. Armin knows the reaction from Eren would be less than pleasant (realistically he'd likely try to pick a fight with Jean) and neither of them wants to face any kind of teasing from the rest of the class either, at least not while they're still rehearsing. After they emerged from the toilet at Sasha's, they got a little ribbing from the others but thankfully the game moved quickly on with Bertolt and Mikasa going in next.

Armin also doesn't want any scrutiny when he's still figuring out exactly what his feelings are about everything. Obviously he's delighted to finally have his feelings returned, and he's enjoying their time together, but sometimes he feels an ache for more. He never would have thought he'd fall for Jean so far and so fast; he always figured he'd be far slower to want to escalate a relationship if he eventually ended up in one, but he can't help wanting Jean. At night, after he's messaged Jean to say goodnight, he finds himself thinking of him: thinking of his lips and hands and body, how it feels to kiss him, how long he's wanted to be able to kiss him. It inevitably leads to him staying up late, thinking about Jean and touching himself as he does so. Is it because he's wanted to be with him for so long that his desires are moving a million miles an hour?

He mentions it to Jean one afternoon. They're in the library, hidden in a far corner where they won't draw attention, and Armin has only been half reading the book open in front of him. When he gets the words out, stumbling over them a little, Jean doesn't look at him strangely or in confusion; instead he gives Armin a little smile.

“I'm so glad it's not just me.”

Armin returns his relieved smile. “You too?”

“Yeah,” admits Jean, running a hand through his hair. “I didn't want to mention it because you're so sweet and I didn't know how you'd feel about anything like that yet but... yeah.”

“So...” Armin glances around the library but sees no one—everyone with a free period is spending their time outside in the sunshine at this time of year. “What do you think we should do?”

Jean takes Armin's hand and kisses the back of it; even that little gesture sends a sweet tingle across Armin's skin. “I don't want us to rush into anything we're not really ready for.”

“Neither do I,” agrees Armin. “Just...”

“I know,” says Jean. “I think... I think we'll know the right time when it comes.”

Armin meets his gaze and nods. “Okay.”

Before they all know it, the day of the performance is upon them. The whole class buzzes with anticipation and excitement, running around with costumes and props. Connie misplaces the accordion he's to mime playing over the ending of the play and it takes ten minutes of Annie yelling at him for him to find it in the boys' toilets. But it's not the only thing missing.

Jean hasn't been seen all day. He never arrived in the morning and still hasn't appeared by lunchtime. With only a few hours before they're due to start the show, Armin can't banish the gnawing worry in his stomach.

“Where is he?” asks Sasha, frowning at the rain beginning to spatter the window. “It's not like him not to turn up.”

“You heard anything Marco?” asks Ymir—even she and Christa have managed to separate themselves in anticipation of the performance.

Marco shakes his head. “Seems like his phone's off.”

A little wave of nausea goes through Armin. He and Jean were messaging until late last night, both too excited about the play to sleep right away—what if that ran Jean's phone battery down? But it doesn't explain why Jean hasn't come to school today.

“Did he call in sick?” suggests Mikasa.

“Levi said no,” says Annie. “He also said if we don't find him we're all in big trouble.”

“Wait, we're all getting in trouble because that palomino-faced fuck couldn't be bothered to show up?” asks Eren with a scowl.

“Eren the horse breed thing isn't catching on,” says Sasha. “Just drop it.”

The class continue chatting but Armin looks out of the window, chewing his lip. Where could Jean be? It's not usual for him to go AWOL so something must be wrong—but what can Armin do? He glances round at everyone, catching Annie's eye. Her eyebrows rise at him. He gives her a puzzled look and she tilts her head towards the door. It's clear what she means.

Armin gets to his feet. He knows the way to Jean's house and he knows he needs to do this. As he leaves the room, he hears several people call after him in confusion but then Annie tells them all to unclench and to run the yellow stockings scene again.

Outside, the rain is fairly light, but as Armin starts half walking, half trotting to Jean's, it gets steadily heavier. By the time he's only a few streets away from the school, he's soaked through, his uniform sticking to him and his shoes waterlogged. He starts to jog and then to run—it won't keep him from getting wetter but his heart is racing and the urgency propels him faster. What if Jean's hurt? What if he's ill—so ill there was no way to let the school know?

About halfway to Jean's house, Armin sees a figure emerging out of the downpour. Through his drenched fringe and eyelashes, the figure turns from a dark grey blob into a dark grey blob on a bike and then into Jean biking hard down the cycle path towards him.

“Jean!” Armin calls—he's almost surprised his voice doesn't gurgle as though underwater.

“Armin?!”

Jean pulls up in a splash of puddle and leaps off his bike, throwing his arms around Armin. The next thing Armin knows, Jean's lips are on his and the cold of the rain doesn't matter anymore for the heat between them. Though Armin can feel more drops falling on his hair and running down his face, he can also feel sheer, exhilarating relief: he found him, Jean's here, kissing him and clutching him like he'll never let go. When they part, they grin at each other, blinking water from their eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Jean asks incredulously.

“Came to look for you,” says Armin.

“But you're not even wearing a jacket!” Jean looks Armin up and down. “You'll catch your death!”

“I needed to find you—everyone's worried.”

Jean frowns. “I'm really sorry,” he says. “I had to look after Lily.”

“Is she okay?” asks Armin, his voice cracking with worry.

“She's fine now,” says Jean. “She was ill and she's coming out of it but my mum was next door with the neighbour this morning and while she was gone Lily had a fit.”

“A fit?” Armin asks, aghast.

“Yeah and I didn't know what to do,” says Jean, running a hand through his sodden hair. “When my mum came back we jumped in the car and went to the hospital. Apparently she had a febrile convulsion and it's pretty common in young kids who've been ill and she's okay but I didn't want to leave my mum to deal with everything alone. She told me to get to school and I realised I forgot to charge my phone so I was just going to bike as fast as possible to get there.” He checks his watch. “Oh shit, we should get going.”

Armin gets on the bike rack and Jean starts peddling madly, throwing them through the driving rain; if there were any dry patches left on either of them they're gone. Armin clutches Jean around the waist, heart thundering under his wet clothes.

When they get back to school, while being scolded the two of them get bundled into the showers and told to warm themselves up while dry clothes are sought. Armin faces away from Jean in the shower, his face and ears a deep shade of pink. He assumes that Jean is doing the same until...

“Hey Armin?” Jean asks from behind him.

“Y-yeah?” says Armin, not daring to even glance over his shoulder.

“You have a nice butt.”

Armin's eyes go wide and he turns to see Jean grinning at him.

“You were looking at my butt?!” he squeaks.

“Well I couldn't help peeking,” admits Jean. “And it's not like I haven't seen it before.”

“Well no, but...” Armin splutters. Jean is telling the truth, given they've been showering together after PE for years but— “Isn't this a little different now?”

Jean shrugs. “Well I've always liked your butt; this just seemed like a good time to tell you.”

Armin's pink face turns crimson and for a moment he has no idea what to say, his gaze dropping to the floor. Eventually, he says, “I like yours too.”

“Yeah?”

When Armin plucks up the courage to look up, Jean is grinning at him again.

“Y-yes, it's a nice... butt.”

“You're so cute.”

Jean steps closer and pulls Armin in for a kiss. After only a second's hesitation, Armin relaxes and wraps his arms around Jean's neck to pull him close. For a while he lets himself be swept away, the rush of water from the shower head raining down on them both. It would be so easy to give into every fantasy he's had and been having about Jean right now; he wants to touch him, let Jean touch him back. He slips his tongue into Jean's mouth and Jean's hands slide down his back, both of them moaning softly. But then they hear a little cough and Armin remembers exactly where they are and springs back from Jean, both of them turning to see Marco at the shower entrance.

“Sorry for interrupting,” he says—though Armin thinks he looks less sorry and more pleased. “I brought you both some clothes.”

“Th-thanks,” says Jean, his own ears pink. Marco hangs up the clothes—PE kits from lost property—and Jean adds, “Marco, we were just... uh...”

Marco grins. “I'm so happy for you dude.”

Armin remembers Jean telling him that he'd told Marco about liking him—Jean grins back at Marco and the two of them bump fists before Marco leaves again. Once he's gone, Jean turns back to Armin.

“Sorry,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “We should...”

“Finish up and get dressed?” suggests Armin—he hopes he doesn't sound too disappointed.

“Yeah, probably,” concedes Jean. He takes Armin's hand and squeezes it gently, seeming to search for the right words. “That felt... really nice.”

“Yeah,” Armin nods. “Maybe... later...”

His words trail off into another blush but Jean smiles, giving Armin another quick kiss. “Maybe later.”

As they get to the end of the play, moving through the final scene, Armin can feel it, that satisfied tingle in his stomach that tells him it's gone well. He peeks out into the audience to see his grandfather smiling at him and, just in front, Levi, not smiling but nodding and throwing glances to Dr Hange, sitting beside him.

Jean takes his hand and Armin smiles at him.

“Cesario come; for so you shall be, while you are a man; But, when in other habits you are seen, Orsino's mistress, and his fancy's queen.”

Armin tilts his head back in response to kiss him. For weeks he worried about this moment, about the idea of kissing Jean in front of an audience, whether he'd be any good, whether Jean would like him, but now it's blissfully easy. Jean's lips against his own, however briefly, feel perfect.

The rest of the scene plays out and Connie steps forward to play the final song, singing as they all take their bows. As Connie reaches the final bars, Armin exchanges another grin with Jean, squeezing his hand. They did it. They pulled it off. Armin can't imagine feeling any prouder of himself or any of the others right now.

When Annie gets on stage to give a talk about the play and the process behind it, Armin feels Jean gently nudge him.

“Hey Armin?” Jean whispers, leaning in close as they stand behind Annie. Armin blinks at him questioningly and Jean asks, “Do you want to go out tomorrow?”

Armin beams at him, nodding and whispering back, “I'd love to.”

Once the whole cast has changed out of their costumes, taken all the props and set pieces back to the classroom storage closet and otherwise tidied up, everyone sets off for home. Without his mother there, Jean goes to get his bike, but once Armin explains the situation to his grandfather and Jean makes a quick phone call home, Jean gets in the car with Armin and his grandfather. They head back and pull the camp bed out from under Armin's bed, setting it up with a sleeping bag.

As he says goodnight to his grandfather and closes the door to his bedroom, Armin can feel his heart thumping hard in his throat; he's alone with Jean, entirely, and part of him is thinking back to how Jean touched him in the shower. He turns to give Jean a smile as he goes to his bed.

“What a day,” he says, sinking down onto the mattress.

“Yeah, hard to believe I was at the hospital this morning,” says Jean, running a hand through his hair again.

“How's Lily doing?” Armin asks.

“Mum said she's sleeping and seems much better.”

“That's really good.”

“Yeah and Mum seems okay too,” adds Jean, giving Armin a relieved look. “It would have been nice for her to come see the play but I'm glad she's okay and I'd rather not be getting in her way right now.”

“I think Connie's parents might have filmed it,” says Armin. “You could see if he could get a copy of it for her maybe?”

Jean grins. “You're so clever.”

He reaches out and takes Armin's hand, squeezing it gently, and Armin can't help but smile.

“You were amazing today,” says Jean. “You did so well.”

“You too,” says Armin. “You were so good.”

Jean leans forward, kissing Armin softly on the lips, and Armin kisses him back, his heart racing giddily. As Jean slips his tongue past Armin's lips, Armin lets out a tiny whine. He can't help thinking of the showers earlier again, of Jean holding him close and the feeling of Jean's smooth skin under his fingers; from the way Jean kisses him he knows Jean is thinking of it too. When they part again and look into each other's eyes they exchange slightly nervous smiles.

“Jean, I...” Armin murmurs, seeking the words. “I want to...”

“I do too,” Jean tells him, brushing Armin's hair out of his eyes.

“Come here,” Armin says, shuffling back to make room for him on the bed. His pulse rushes as Jean joins him, lying down with him face to face. Jean's hand runs down Armin's side and Armin feels an excited lurch in his stomach, but once again he hesitates.

“I'm... not sure where to start,” he admits.”

“Neither am I,” confesses Jean. “Let's just do what we feel and see what we like maybe?”

“Well it's worked so far.”

They grin at each other before kissing again, pulling close to each other. Armin puts his all into the kiss, letting himself sink into the feeling of it: their lips and tongues moving together, fingers tracing skin, breaths mingling as their bodies press close. In the silence of Armin's bedroom, all that can be heard is the soft sound of the two of them moving on the bed. Armin lifts his arms as Jean's hands skim up his body, taking off his pyjama shirt for him. Jean's follows soon after, both thrown to the floor as they busy themselves in feeling each other's skin. When Jean experimentally skates his fingers over one of Armin's nipples, Armin gasps and stiffens against him.

“Good?” Jean asks tentatively. “Bad?”

“Good,” nods Armin, tracing the faint outline of Jean's ribcage with the tips of his fingers. When Jean does it again, Armin's next gasp turns into a tiny moan and he puts one hand to his mouth.

“Will this be okay?” asks Jean. “Your grandad...”

“He's a pretty heavy sleeper,” murmurs Armin. “But we should make sure not to be too loud.”

Jean smiles. “Guess I'll have to kiss you lots then.”

Their next kiss turns into more kisses, one leading into another and into the next as they carry on mapping out each other's bodies. Armin runs his hands down Jean's back, feeling moles and the outline of muscles, and grazes the waistband of Jean's pyjamas. In turn, Jean slides one hand up Armin's thigh, his touch warm through the fabric, drawing another little sound from Armin's throat. Armin's fingers dip briefly under Jean's waistband and Jean brushes his fingers gently over the front of Armin's trousers.

“Jean...”

“Is this okay?” asks Jean, looking into Armin's eyes for confirmation, his own eyes earnest and so tender that Armin feels his heart skip as he nods.

“Yeah, please.”

Leaving another kiss to Armin's lips, Jean pulls his pyjama bottoms down. Armin's cheeks flush pink again as he's exposed and his trousers land on the floor but Jean pulls off and tosses aside his own straight after, leaving them both bare. For a moment, Armin doesn't dare look at Jean—not that he hasn't seen him (well, _it_ ) before, but this is a decidedly _different_ situation—but eventually he lifts his gaze to see Jean looking just as nervous and unsure as he feels. They let out a shared sheepish giggle.

“You're lovely,” says Jean, running one hand down Armin's side. His eyes take in the sight of Armin and despite the little twist of nerves inside him Armin finds he doesn't want to hide from him: instead he wants Jean to see him, all of him. He looks down, biting his lip at the sight of Jean's cock pointing towards him.

“Can I?” Armin gestures with one hand.

Jean nods. “Yeah, go ahead.”

With a tentative touch, Armin strokes his fingers up Jean's dick, wrapping his hand around it and getting a strangled groan in response. He squeezes gently, stroking in the way he does to himself, and Jean claps a hand to his mouth to stifle his voice.

“You okay?” Armin asks, to another nod.

“Feels so good,” rasps Jean, his own hand sliding down Armin's hip. “Can I?”

“Yeah,” nods Armin. “Touch me, please.”

Jean's hand closes around his cock and Armin lets out a little gasp; it feels indescribably good, far better than his own hand or how he imagined.

“Oh my god,” Armin whimpers, redoubling his own efforts as Jean begins stroking his dick, their hands falling into rhythm with each other. “Jean...”

“I know,” says Jean, his other hand finding the back of Armin's neck to bring their foreheads together. “Feels amazing.”

Armin nods, words failing him as Jean continues to touch him; if kissing Jean leaves him breathless, this makes him feel like he could fly. They exchange more kisses to stifle their voices, both trembling, and it takes an embarrassingly short time for Armin to find he's getting close.

“Jean,” he whines against Jean's lips. “I'm...”

“Me too,” says Jean, his voice low and tight like a bowstring, exactly how Armin feels. “You're amazing.”

“So are you,” Armin gasps. “I—”

His next words vanish into another low moan as he comes, his cock pulsing in Jean's hand. He keeps up his own hand movements through his orgasm and Jean follows suit soon after, kissing Armin to muffle his soft cry. The two of them ride out the high together, eventually slowing their movements to a stop and kissing each other more slowly than before. Armin feels like he's sinking into a warm bath, satisfaction filling him as they part and share another tender smile.

“Wow,” Jean sighs.

Armin lets out a breathless giggle. “Yeah, wow.”

They take a few more moments to catch their breath before Armin reaches for tissues from the bedside table so they can clean up. Once they're relatively clean, Jean brushes Armin's hair out of his eyes.

“Hey Armin?”

“Yeah?”

“I really like you,” says Jean earnestly, “and... I'm really glad we did this.”

Armin smiles, pulling Jean in for another irresistible kiss. “Me too, and I really like you too.”

Jean beams at him. “So what do you want to do tomorrow?”


End file.
